The screen flickers to life, and the room fills with a faint static hum. The dim light from the phone reflects on their faces, bound by grief and unanswered questions.
Dean's throat tightens as Mikey's familiar voice crackles faintly through the speaker, not yet clear enough to make out the words. Stacy covers her mouth, trembling, her eyes fixed on the screen as if afraid to blink and miss a second. Bryan swallow hard, his chest rising and falling in uneven breaths.
For a moment, none of them speak. The sound of rain tapping faintly against the window outside only amplifies the weight in the room.
It feels wrong, like time itself has bent just to let them see ghosts.
Dean's hands begin to shake, his mind racing with memories of laughter, late-night talks, and the promises Mikey once made. He forces himself to steady his breathing, but his heart refuses to listen.
Then, through the crackling sound, Mikey's face slowly comes into focus.
[Video starts]
They see Mikey and Cristina again… but only through the dim glow of the screen. It almost feels like a live call, like they're still out there somewhere, smiling back.
Mikey (to the camera): "Hey there… our little treasures."
(He lets out a shaky breath, trying to steady himself.) "We're sorry… sorry that we won't be with you guys for the rest of your wonderful journey."
His lips tremble as he lowers his gaze, the tears finally breaking through.
"If you're seeing this… then we didn't make it."
Cristina: "We love you…" her voice cracks, but she forces a fragile smile through her tears. "All of you. Don't ever forget that."
The siblings freeze. The sound of their parents' voices, so familiar, so painfully real, shatters what little composure they had left. Stacy clutches her chest as silent tears fall; Bryan turns away, jaw clenched, fighting to stay strong; and Dean… Dean can barely breathe. It's as if time has turned cruel, giving them back what was taken, only to rip it away again.
Mikey (in the video): "There's something I never told anyone… not even Zack."
He pauses, staring at the floor as if searching for the right words.
"I used to see things… visions. At first, I thought I was losing my mind. But they always came true."
Cristina places a comforting hand on his shoulder, nodding softly through her tears.
Mikey looks back into the camera.
Mikey: That day… Dean, that's how I knew where to find you." (His voice trembles, thick with regret.) "My biggest mistake was not telling Zack… my closest friend… about the vision. I didn't believe it myself."
(He breaks down, covering his face with his hands.) "If it wasn't for my wife, Cristina… I would've never gone down there. When I arrived, I couldn't believe what I saw. My vision… came true."
Mikey bows his head, shoulders shaking as he whispers.
"Dean… I'm so sorry. Please… forgive me."
The room outside the screen is silent, except for the quiet sobs of the three siblings. Dean's face is drenched in tears, his body trembling as the weight of those words sinks deep. He leans closer to the phone, voice barely audible.
Dean (soft whisper): ...thank you… for saving me.
The video continues to play…
[At The Crimson Hounds basement]
Frank gathers The Crimson Hounds. The room is dimly lit, the sound of muffled footsteps and low murmurs filling the air as the gang forms a circle around their leader.
Frank: Alright everyone, listen up.
He glances at John and Mark, his tone sharp.
Frank: You two. Got any information on those siblings yet?
John: We've been asking around, boss. Talked to a few of the other gangs, asked if they've seen any three middle-aged people these past two days.
Mark: Yeah, but we didn't get any reliable response yet. Some said they might've seen them, but nothing solid.
Frank clicks his teeth, shaking his head in frustration.
Frank: Okay… but we keep looking until we find them!
He slams his fist on the table, making everyone flinch slightly.
Frank: We're not called The Crimson Hounds for nothing! We hunt our prey to the ends of the earth if we have to!
The gang roars back in unison, fists raised high.
The Crimson Hounds: HELL YEAH!!!
Frank smirks, his eyes dark and determined.
Frank (quietly): Let's see how far you run...
A few minutes pass. It's now 11:00 a.m. The gang sits around their base, bottles clinking and the air heavy with the sour tang of cheap alcohol as they plan their next steps.
Suddenly, John's phone rings. Frank's head snaps toward him, eyes sharp.
Frank (commanding, voice cutting through the hum): John… answer it. Put it on speaker.
John grabs his phone from the table, staring at the unknown number with a frown.
John: Sure
John answers and presses the speaker icon, holding the phone up. The room goes silent. A rough, unfamiliar voice crackles through the speaker.
Unknown Voice (cold, clipped): I know where those kids are. For more details, let's meet at the old church building near the gas station. For your information, the details you're looking for will cost you… five grand in cash.
Frank slams a fist on the table, making the bottles rattle. His eyes flash with determination.
Frank (voice low, deadly serious, jaw tight): Five grand? Worth it if it gets us the kids. John, seal the deal. Now.
John (nods, lips tight, gripping the phone): Alright… deal. We'll be there.
Unknown Voice (flat, final): Meet in two hours. If you're a minute late, the deal's off. (click, line dead)
Frank leans back, arms folded, eyes scanning the room, expression cold and calculating.
Frank (to the gang, voice sharp, eyes piercing): Alright, everyone, listen up. John will do the talking with that man. Mark… you're going with him. The rest of you stay in the cars outside in case things go south.
The gang nods, some faces tight with anticipation, others rubbing their hands over weapons nervously.
Frank (gritting his teeth, voice steady): We have an hour and fifty-five minutes. Get your stuff ready. I want no mistakes. Keep your heads clear and your eyes open.
The Crimson Hounds immediately start preparing: bottles are set aside, weapons checked, cars loaded, and maps reviewed. Energy is tense and focused, the air thick with anticipation as each member moves with purpose.
[At an abandoned club near the old church]
The air smelled of mildew and old smoke. Dust drifted in the shafts of light sneaking through broken windows. Only four figures remained in the club, the remains of what was once the most dangerous gang in town: Jack, Matthew, Prince, and Bill.
Jack (leaning back against a wall, arms crossed, eyes sharp): The Crimson Hounds agreed to pay the five grand. (voice calm but calculated, a hint of excitement in his smirk)
Matthew (frowning, brows furrowed, pacing slightly): What did those kids do for them to become the Hounds' prey? (confusion and anger lacing his tone)
Prince (shrugs, voice flat, hands shoved in pockets): Doesn't matter. We get the money; we stay out of their way. We don't wanna get involved. (expression cold, detached, avoiding eye contact)
Bill (tightening his jaw, taking a deep breath, voice low but firm): I'll talk to the guy. You guys stand behind me.
He runs a hand through his hair and sighs, the weight of past mistakes heavy on his shoulders.
Bill (voice hardening, eyes narrowing, almost a whisper): This… this is what you get for ruining our group… You can't get out of this now, Elana.
A tense silence falls over the room. Dust floats lazily in the stagnant air as each of them waits, the weight of the looming deal pressing down like a storm.
[At Elana's home; living room]
Michael and Elana sit across from each other, the room quiet except for the faint sound of traffic outside.
Suddenly, Elana hears soft, muffled sobs coming from the siblings' room. She pauses, lips tightening, and lets out a long sigh.
Elana (voice low, weary, eyes flicking toward the door): Those kids… they've gone through so much. (her hand rests lightly on the arm of the chair, fingers tapping nervously)
She looks at Michael, her gaze steady but filled with concern.
Elana: I called you here because I need your help… help me train them. Let's teach them how to survive in this… messed up town, full of gangs and danger at every corner. (voice soft but firm, a mixture of hope and worry)
Michael leans back, letting out a slow, heavy sigh, his expression conflicted but determined.
Michael (nodding, voice calm but weighted with responsibility): I see… (his eyes drift to the floor for a moment, jaw tightening) … I do owe you… so let's give it our best. (his hand clenches slightly on the armrest, determination flickering in his gaze)
Elana gives a small, grateful nod, a flicker of relief passing over her face. The faint sobs continue from the next room, a reminder of the stakes and the urgency of what's to come.
[Cuts to the siblings' room]
The video hits the 00:02:59 mark. The screen flickers, and Mikey's face comes into clearer focus, his eyes red-rimmed, lips trembling. His eyes flicker, haunted by memories.
Mikey: "My visions… they came back. But it wasn't giving me enough details. I'd see the same scene several times… a random house in flames… a child outside… until today…"
He chokes slightly, tears rolling down his cheeks.
Mikey: "It was… our home."
Cristina's face appears beside him on the screen, tears streaming as she clasps her hands together.
Cristina (voice trembling, shoulders shaking): "We… we couldn't stop it."
Dean, Stacy, and Bryan huddle closer to the screen, eyes wide, hearts hammering. The flames on the video seem almost real, licking closer to the edges of the frame.
Mikey (sniffling, trying to regain composure): "Knowing her… she's doing everything by herself. You need to locate her… so you can give her a hand… You can find her at Merry's club in town. Once you locate her, show her this video… she'll help you three." (his eyes flick toward the camera, pleading, desperate)
The siblings remain frozen, watching, as the flames in the video creep closer, the heat and smoke almost felt real.
Cristina (voice urgent, yet soft, tears rolling down): "Last, but not least… don't trust anyone out there… not even the police. The city is dangerous, filled with gangs. Always watch each other's backs."
Mikey (nodding, voice raw, eyes glistening, tears falling again): "Only trust yourselves… and her."
Both Mikey and Cristina let out a soft, shuddering sigh, wiping tears from their cheeks as the video continues to play.
The three siblings sit frozen, hearts pounding, knowing the city outside their door is now a threat they can't ignore.
The video reaches its final minute. The timer flashes 00:00:59, and the screen glows with the soft light of fading embers.
Mikey and Cristina turn toward each other, eyes brimming with sorrow and love. Slowly, they share one last kiss—gentle, lingering, filled with both pain and a fleeting sense of peace.
Cristina (whispering, voice trembling): "…Let's meet in heaven."
Mikey (softly, voice breaking): "I'll be waiting."
The screen goes black. The video ends, leaving only the faint echo of their words in the room.
As the video ends, the brief warmth of seeing Mikey and Cristina again fades, leaving the siblings staring at the blank screen, the reality sinking in… Mikey and Cristina are truly gone.
Dean drops the phone onto the couch with a soft thud, shoulders slumping, his face pale.
For a moment, silence hangs over the room, heavy and suffocating.
Stacy swallows hard, blinking back tears, and then, with a trembling voice, she moves closer to Dean and Bryan.
Stacy (voice breaking, trying to stay strong, eyes glistening): C'mon… come here.
She pulls both of them into a tight group hug, arms wrapping around their shoulders. Dean and Bryan stiffen at first, but the warmth begins to seep through.
Bryan (softly, voice cracked, leaning into her embrace): Stacy… you don't have to hold it in.
Dean (voice low, broken, trembling): Yeah… let it out. You don't have to be tough in front of us.
Stacy's shoulders shake violently, and she finally lets herself go. Tears stream freely down her face, her sobs breaking the tense quiet.
Dean and Bryan tighten the hug around her, their own tears spilling, bodies trembling.
Dean (murmuring, voice choked): We're here… together…
Bryan (soft, broken, brushing a hand over Stacy's hair): We've got each other… it's okay to cry.
For several long, raw minutes, the three of them sit like that, clinging to one another, crying, comforting, and petting each other, letting the grief flow. It's messy, painful, but necessary, a small fragile moment of healing in a world that's been anything but kind.
Mikey's friend is out there, waiting, but reaching her will not be easy. Allies may be scarce, enemies abundant, and every decision could bring them closer to answers… or into the crosshairs of those who would rather see them fail.
The hunt has begun.
TO BE CONTINUED...